


Breathless Prayer

by silver_drip



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dungeon, God Tony Stark, Insanity, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 17:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12304206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_drip/pseuds/silver_drip
Summary: Loki is sent to the dungeons. His cell is across from Tony's.





	Breathless Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt fill for https://dailyfrostironficrec.tumblr.com/ monthly prompt, October 2017
> 
> Tony isn't human in this one.

* * *

It had come to an end so fast. One moment Loki was in the guise of Odin and in the next Thor was bashing him on the head with Mjolnir.

Loki’s ‘trial’ had been even faster than that.

He was once again sentenced to a lifetime locked away in the dungeon, but this time was different. He would be put in the deepest part of the dungeon where no light reached. He would have no food or water since those were luxuries. He was only allowed to have the clothes on his back.

And no visitors, not that Loki expected any.

Worst of all, his magic was stripped away from him.

Loki would no longer be able to create the illusions that once comforted him when nothing else would.

Having it ripped out of him hurt more than all the torture he had at the hands of The Other. It left him dazed as he was hoisted up by the guards.

He ignored Thor’s look of disappointment. Serves that fool right. It had been so easy to steal the throne. He’d even offered it to Thor, but the fool would rather play with his Midgardians than do his duty as a prince of Asgard.

Loki didn’t bother to shout insults. His glares spoke for him.

Soon enough he was taken down the serpentine stairs that led to the dungeons.

Loki grinned sharply despite the dread that was building up in his gut.

Pristine cells changed to grimier ones. The air became stale.

They paused so a guard could light a torch. Loki tried to make a move to escape, but he had no energy left in him.  

One of the guards commented that he didn’t know the dungeons went so far down.

Their group became strangely quiet as they continued deeper. The air became heavy.

They came to a stop at a dead end.

“Ready to see your new home?” one of the guards taunted. He placed his palm on the smooth stone. There was a hiss as the wall opened up.

Loki did his best to look around. There were two cells.

Loki held in a shiver when he saw that one of them was occupied by a corpse. He was sitting upright in armor that had long ago rusted. His hair was long, covering his tilted down face and reaching far beyond the ground. A ghoulish hand was holding on tightly to the hilt of a sword.

“Well, aren’t you lucky! You’ve got a neighbor!” Loki was gracelessly tossed into the cell across from the corpse’s.

The elven metal door clicked shut with a finality that was chilling.

Loki grinned madly at the guards through the bars of his cell.

All too soon they’re gone and Loki is blinking at the afterimage of the torch’s fire—The last light he’d see ever again, if he could not find a way out of this.

He settled down in his cell, distantly glad that his hands weren’t bound. 

Loki took in slow breaths, trying to calm down.

The Void was likewise without light. At least now he had the ground firmly beneath him.

Yet he still felt like he was falling.

Loki laughed hollowly.

He wondered how many years it would be before Thor was coronated and how many years after that before Thor realized he was lost without Loki’s guidance.

Thor would also have to wait for Odin to die before overturning his ruling.

A thousand years, Loki estimated.

Loki was only in his 900s.

Would what little sanity he had left disappear?

Doubtlessly.

But would that really be so bad?

With insanity would his mind finally be at rest, able to let go of a lifetime of hurts and lies?

Loki longed for that, longed for inner peace.

It could never be though.

Even with insanity the memory of Odin’s lies, Thor’s disregard, and Frigga’s death would burn him.

Loki choked on a laugh.

He decided to map out his cell.

Nine steps by seven steps. His head barely touched the ceiling. Fourteen bars of vertical metal, smooth and with a hidden lock.

Had he his magic…

A fruitless thought.

His magic had been stripped from him and all his conduits severed. Only another mage would be able to heal him, even then it would take years for his magic to start to grow back.

Loki laid on his back and slowed his breathing.

He may have fallen asleep. There was no way of telling.

He searched in his mind’s eye, trying to remake his history, if only in his imagination—but reality was too pervasive to be kept at bay for more than a few moments.

Loki braided and unbraided his hair to keep his restless hands busy.

He paced the woefully small cell.

Before long the hunger started gnawing at him.

“I was the rightful king,” Loki hissed to himself. “Damn Heimdall. Damn Sif. Damn the Warriors Three!” Traitors! All of them!

And then there was Thanos.

Loki had nearly let him slip from his mind.

The air was punched from Loki’s chest.

Loki was defenseless.

When Thanos came all he would have to do is send in one of his assassin daughters to steal Loki away.

There would be no escape, only a pain that would strip Loki of what was left of his sanity.

At least he’d be able to see then—unless they plucked out his eyes.

He laughed, his voice cracking.

Oh how the Aesir must be laughing at him now.

Loki the traitor.

Loki the disgrace.

Loki the _unwanted_.

He sobbed.

Loki keened, lusting for their blood.

“I was their king!” Odin had fallen into his Odin-Sleep. Thor had been banished. Frigga had given him the crown!

But no.

No one respected him.

So Loki forced them to, donning the decrepit guise of Odin.

How easily they fell in line when they thought he was Odin.

Loki tried to breathe, but he felt like he was shattering.

How long had it been now?

Incessant nightmares.

What was this reality?

What was more real? His time awake in darkness or his time engulfed in dreams?

“I was king,” he wept.

If only he hadn’t nudged Thor into going to Jotunheim.

But then Loki would have been ignorant, the butt of a joke, snapping up any scrap of approval Odin threw his way—all the time Odin laughing at the little Jotun who danced like a fool for him.

Nightmares of the Hulk smashing him into the ground, warping into the Hulk tearing Frigga apart in his meaty hands as Thor laughed at Loki’s tears.

They were laughing.

All of Asgard was feasting as Loki wasted away.

Hallucinations specked his vision.

Norns, Frigga mute as she tried to tell him a story. He reached out of his cell, but she was always too far away.

His cell.

Loki’s nails broke as he dug against the unyielding rock.

His fingers shook as he tried to braid his hair, becoming matted with blood.

Better off dead.

It would have been a kindness, but when had Odin ever granted him mercy?

Odin had never lifted a finger in his defense.

Lips sown shut.

Beaten by Thor’s friends.

Mocked by everyone for his magic.

Magic.

Loki wept, yet no tears would come out.

They had stolen his essence, what made Loki, Loki.

A husk.

He was withering away.

Warped time.

He began whispering to himself, but stopped.

No, he would not let himself go mad.

When he was released he’d need his wits.

If he was releas—

He needed to have hope.

But that was such a fragile thing.

His mind went to the man across the way.

A lifeless corpse, a preview of what was to come.

He whispered to it.

A new desperation.

He had to keep his mind in order to make any sort of sense as he spoke.

“I didn’t understand,” Loki hissed, his eyes itchy. He didn’t claw them out, but it was a close thing. “I tried so hard, yet they scorned me.” Loki curled up on the ground, or had he uncurled? “Not a friend to my name. Poor Loki, weak Loki, better off dead Loki.”

His eyes burned, but he was too dehydrated to cry.

He didn’t know how long he had left before his tongue would dry and crack in his mouth.

“No, no, no Loki. They would say as they laughed at me! But what a selfish little creature I am!” Loki pulled at his hair. It had gotten longer. “What of you, dear friend—My only friend!”

Loki fell to the ground his breath coming out short.

His mind ached.

There was a vise on his neck.

Maybe he fell asleep.

Maybe he didn’t.

“My only friend,” Loki sang. “It makes sense that I would finally find you in such a hateful place.” His throat closed up and he gripped the bars of his cell tightly. “Only a friend because you cannot find another. A world of only two.”

And Loki found himself growing fond, the way a starving man was fond of a plant that would hopefully grow fruit—A desperation.

Loki could barely picture his friend now. It had only been a glance.

“Chestnut hair,” Loki purred, yet it came out as a growl. “They gave me black hair and pale skin, marking me as different from the rest of my ‘family’—All blond and shining!”

And Norns! Did his eyes hurt!

He couldn’t bear to close them.

“My friend, they must have adored you! You died with your hand still on your sword!” Loki wheezed in and out. “In armor! If only I had been more like you.” Loki sang the words. “More like anyone, but meeee!”

He rolled on the ground, nose smashing into stone.

“Would you have accepted me? Us wretched creatures have to stick together!”

Loki fell into a deep silence, trills of thought making his head ache.

He was a god, yet he prayed.

“My friend, my only friend~ We could have been great together!” Loki tried to push himself through the bars.

He would give anything just to curl up against his friend, to feel the presence of another.

Or had Loki just imagined it up?

What if he had always been in this place? In the endless darkness and all else had been childish musings?

“I wish I knew you name, my friend, my only, my beloved.”

Loki couldn’t braid his hair, his hands shook too much.

“Do me a kindness, let me know you’re still there.”

Loki waited before breaking down once again.

What was left of him to shatter?

Nightmares of the Other’s torture.

He tried to count his protruding ribs, but numbers escaped him.

A golden speck!

And another golden speck!

From across the way.

They were narrow, close to each other, but never touching.

Loki sneered as he laughed.

More illusions—Delusions!

“My love! You are playing with me! A cruel love!”

Loki paced—Or was he crawling?

The bars blocked his view.

None of his other illusions had been blocked before.

Unless the bars were no longer there!

Loki ran forth and slammed into the bars.

They were still there.

“How I wish to hear your view,” Loki said reverently. “Would you care for me? Care for Loki?”

No one else ever had.

“My love! My love! My love!” he chanted.

It was almost freeing.

A fluttering emotion as his stifling world narrowed down further to just his companion and the slitted golden light.

Loki took to laying against the bars, one arm reaching out desperately.

“If only I could whisper your name. Would you whisper mine back?”

The gold became bigger, almost looking like eyes.

“I see! I see! I see! But do you?!” He gasped for air. “Would that I could show myself!”

Sleep or heavy consciousness.

A rasping noise caused Loki to flinch.

“My love, my only, do you breathe once more? Let me not take away your air!” Loki held his breath for as long as he could.

But he was weak, so weak.

“Do you think me a despicable creature?” Loki scraped his nails against his chest. When had he lost his shirt?

“My Loki,” a deep voice said, startling him. Loki scrambled backwards, hitting the wall hard. “Speak my name, whisper Stark until your throat bleeds. For me, you shall do this, and I will give you love and power in return.”

Loki licked his cracked lips, tasting blood and dirt.

Was this real?

Did that matter?

“Stark,” he began, his voice breaking. “Stark, Stark, Stark!”

It became a mantra, filling Loki with a hope he thought he’d left behind long ago.

A reverent chant that he placed his soul in.

And his throat bled, but he kept going until he could no longer move.

The golden light grew, showing a ragged face and sunken in eyes.

“My Loki, your praise gives me life.” There was the sound of rusty metal clanging as Stark shifted forward. “Write my name in blood and trace your fingers over it, only think of me.”

Loki shook with delight and fear.

He bit his finger and spelled out the name in runes.

As he traced it he kept his eyes on his Stark.

As time passed—If time even existed—Stark’s glow became brighter, almost blinding to Loki’s unused eyes. His skin lost its wrinkles, smoothing out. His eyes became clearer and the rust on his armor fell away.

“Yes, my Loki. I can feel veneration,” Stark’s voice had become velvety, making Loki shiver in pleasure. “My power is returning.”

Stark stood up and unsheathed his sword. Loki backed away from him despite himself.

Stark cut through the bars of their cells.

He towered over Loki.

“Too bright, too bright!” Loki covered his eyes, digging his palms into them.

“Shh, my Loki.” He heard Stark kneel down. A warm hand on his face made him flinch. “It’s alright. I am healing you.”

Loki gasped.

It felt like cool water was rushing over him.

His body shook with the intensity of it and he keened loudly, leaning into Stark’s welcoming embrace.

“Rest, my Loki.”

Loki didn’t dare close his eyes.

“But… what if you’re gone when I wake?” Loki asked, feeling like a child.

Stark’s smile was indulgent. He kissed Loki tenderly on the lips.

“I will be here. Now Sleep.”

With a mixture of fear and antipatience, Loki fell asleep.

*

Food.

He could smell food.

Loki’s eyes shot open, before closing tightly.

Everything was so bright.

“Take your time,” Stark said, his voice a balm on Loki’s soul. Something was pressed to his lips. “Drink.”

Sweet mead slid over Loki’s tongue. For a second he forgot how to swallow, but his body knew how.

He drank and drank until the cup was empty.

But then his Stark gave him food and Loki wept in gratitude.

“Thank you, Stark! Thank you!”

Stark pulled him into his arms and Loki held onto him desperately. His armor dug into Loki, but it felt so much better than the ground.

Thoughtlessly, he curled up in Stark’s lap.

“Does Buri still rule the realms?” Stark asked when Loki had calmed down.

Loki squinted open his eyes. They were still in the cell, but there was pelts on the ground, candles, and food.

It took a moment for Stark’s question to make any sense to him.

“King Buri died, left his throne to Bor, who left it to Odin.” Loki snarled. “ _Odin_!” he cursed. His hands curled up into claws against Stark’s chest.

Stark laughed hollowly.

“Those ungrateful creatures.” Stark nuzzled against Loki’s hair, calming him. “We shall destroy them all.” Loki gave him a confused look. Stark’s smile was twisted and made Loki’s breath catch in his throat. “The Aesir are no true gods. They do not live off worship as I do. I created them, loved them like my own children, but Buri betrayed me. He cast a spell that made everyone forget me then he threw me in this hole since he wasn’t strong enough to kill me.” Stark gripped Loki by the back of his head before kissing him slowly. Loki melted into his touch. It had been so long… “But then you came to me, Loki.” He kissed him again and Loki whimpered. “Hold my hands and chant my name and we will both be healed.”

Loki didn’t hesitate. Stark was his savior and had already done more for him than anyone else.

“Stark, Stark, Stark,” he whispered reverently. A tingling warmth built between their hands, spreading out. Loki nearly gasped when he felt his magic spark back to life.

Hours passed in prayer and a newfound ecstasy.

Stark kissed Loki’s hands. His eyes were warm with love and tenderness.

Loki giggled, sounding deranged.

“If there is anyone you want me to spare, speak now.”

Loki swallowed past the lump in his throat, his mind moving faster than it had in years.

There had only been one who cared for him, who showed him mercy—and she was dead.

“No one, there is no one.”

“Very well.” Stark stood and Loki did the same, his body back to his former strength. “We shall kill them all and then form a new realm of our own.” Stark kissed him and he almost didn’t want to let go.

Stark’s grin was sharp as they teleported to the throne room.

And then there was blood, gore, and victory.


End file.
